


Blue

by Catsintheattic



Series: Rainbow Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-14
Updated: 2007-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsintheattic/pseuds/Catsintheattic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting in class, Draco remembers the Christmas visit he and his mother made to Azkaban. Maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord never wanted him to succeed with his task?</p><p>Set in the first week of Januar, 1997.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

Christmas at the Manor had always been a feast full of beauty and wonders. This year, it was an awkward affair. Instead of instructing the house-elves how to decorate the tree and what to prepare for the menu, Narcissa Malfoy had spent the first days of the holiday packing a small bundle to take to Azkaban. And even though Lucius Malfoy was allowed only one visitor per month, Draco had accompanied his mother to the grim island, watching the wind tearing at her hair and the cold cracking the tender skin of her lips. 

His mother’s hopes to deliver the small parcel of chocolate, fresh fruit, an extra scarf and a hand-written letter had been destroyed at the doorstep of the prison. A thin-lipped Auror had come to note down their names, demanding both of their wands, even though Draco was going no further than the cold entrance hall to wait for his mother to return. When the Auror had spotted the parcel, he had held out his hand again. 

“What’s that?”

In spite of the sorrow crashing down on her, Draco’s mother had forced her head up high. “Just a little parcel in the spirit of the season,” she’d said. “I’m sure you won’t find any harm in a few Belgian truffles, satsumas and a bit of cashmere.”

“First of all, I’d suggest that you let me decide for myself what I consider to be harmful. Second,” the Auror had been using his fingers to count his instructions off, “I have to inform you that the prisoners are provided with food as well as with clothing. There is no need to bring anything extra.” 

He had paused and taken the parcel out of her hands. Then, in one humiliating movement, he’d flicked it hard. “Third, the visitors’ manual clearly states that personal, unsupervised communication is not allowed. So I really wonder why you’re trying to fool me by not telling me about the love note that has been so carefully tucked away between those harmless goodies and that piece of over-priced wool.” 

Draco still remembered the faint quivering of his mother’s lower lip, as the small scrap of parchment had tumbled to the floor. The Auror’s voice, explaining how lucky they were that he, in the spirit of the season, didn’t send them away on the spot, made Draco’s blood run cold. Here, in Azkaban, the Malfoy name held no power. Threats and bribery didn’t count. Everything depended on the do-gooder’s will to help. 

Draco had waited until his mother was led away before picking up the letter. 

He didn’t have the heart to throw it away, but he knew that he could never mention it to her without acknowledging the moment of her humiliation. So he had kept it in a pocket of his cloak on their way back home and later, after a silent dinner in the too big dining room, he had hidden the letter in his school trunk. Of course he didn’t read it, he had too much respect for his parents’ privacy. But he kept it as a reminder of the loss his mother had to suffer, and he felt its constant burn as he carried it around with him night and day at Hogwarts. 

“Draco Malfoy!” The voice of his professor crashed into his thoughts and Draco jerked up his head. He realised with a sick feeling that most of his classmates were staring at him, their faces displaying every emotion from open curiosity to badly masked disgust. It was then that he felt Pansy’s knee touching his leg under the table.

“I’m glad to finally have your attention, Mr. Malfoy.” Professor Flitwick sounded angry, quite unlike his usual mild-mannered self. “Would you be so kind as to let the rest of us know what you find so much more interesting than my instructions on advanced colour change charms?”

Draco decided that it would be best to stay silent and wait for Flitwick to go on. He didn’t need his humiliation to drag on for the whole class to witness. So he tried his best to ignore the hisses and sniggers from the Gryffindor tables, and forced his face into a mask of indifference.  
The professor sighed. “You have nothing to say to me? I thought not.” He turned to the rest of the class. “I want you all to pair up and practise changing the colours of your parchments. The first student to show me a rainbow coloured parchment will earn ten points for their House. When you have mastered this, stick with one colour and practise shading the paper, say from deepest to lightest blue, or use different patterns to imitate structure.”

One of the students let out a delighted laugh and Flitwick smiled at him. “Mr. Thomas, I expected you to like this particular task. It might come in handy in your future drawings.”

While the students were all busy bustling about the room, Flitwick turned back to Draco, who hadn’t bothered pairing up with anyone. Pansy was still at his side, but he suspected his lecture not to be over so soon. To confirm his worries, Flitwick sent Pansy away to pair up with Millicent and Blaise. Pansy’s knee gave Draco another reassuring touch, before she stood up and reluctantly left him to his fate.

Flitwick fixed Draco with an unreadable stare. “Mr. Malfoy, you are in trouble. I needn’t inform you that your grades are continuing to slip, and I haven’t seen you trying to catch up with the rest of the class.” Glancing at a bunch of Gryffindors who seemed unable to move their feet, he quickly cast _Muffliato_ at the immediate vicinity, and then went on. “From what I know of your performance in earlier years, I can only suspect that your family situation is affecting you deeply.” He paused, as if waiting for Draco to come up with an explanation. 

Draco, on the other hand, didn’t move a muscle and sat perfectly still. It was all he could do to control his trembling anger and exhaustion. He hated feeling helpless all the time, not being in control and able to take care of the situation properly. The mere thought of discussing his family with a teacher, let alone one who favoured any house but Slytherin, curled his lips in disgust. He bit down on the insides of his cheeks, hard.

“Show me that piece of parchment that you are hiding under your desk.”

Flitwick, although kind, was not one of the teachers who could be tricked. Instead, he would use every single one of Draco’s words to his own advantage, trying to solve the puzzle. Draco decided that he didn’t want to take the risk. There was no use in denying the obvious. Besides, nothing was to be gained by defying his teacher. Better to be done with it quickly, and appease Flitwick’s temper. Draco couldn’t risk any more detentions. Very slowly, he removed his mother’s letter from his robes and placed it on the desk in front of him.

“Maybe I should show you the colour changing charms once more, working our way from the basic to the more advanced ones?” Flitwick lifted his wand and aimed at the desk.

“No!” His effort for composure abandoned, Draco leaped to his feet and covered the letter with his hands, leaving sweaty imprints on the parchment. Behind him, his chair banged on the stone floor, and several students at the other end of the classroom turned their heads at them. “Don’t you dare touch my letter.” He didn’t know how he still managed to control the loudness of his voice, forcing it down to a whisper.

While Professor MacGonagall would have lashed at Draco with her sharp tongue for such behaviour, Flitwick didn’t even reprimand him. He simply looked at Draco, waiting for him to calm down.

Draco tried to diminish the damage. “I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to be impolite. It’s just that this letter is very dear to me, so I wouldn’t want it to come to harm. I over-reacted.” He stopped, realising that he had started to babble. 

“I accept your apology, Mr. Malfoy. Please, sit down. If the letter is so dear to you, you might consider keeping it somewhere safer than under your desk. But, I cannot accept your poor performance in my classroom, especially because you clearly have the potential to do better. You understand that, don’t you?”

Draco hurried to nod, relieved that the letter was back in his possession. 

“If you don’t work on your charms voluntarily, I guess I will have to force some practice upon you. So I expect you to serve detention with me for three hours Saturday morning. You will concentrate on your practical charms as well as write an essay on the theoretical background.”

Draco’s heart sank. Another detention. Another time when he couldn’t work on what mattered most. His mother and he hadn’t been the only people to make a visit during the winter holidays. Draco would have loved to forget the day after they had returned from Azkaban, when Aunt Bellatrix had knocked at the Manor’s door. She had not been on a family visit, and she had not been alone. The Dark Lord’s words, already haunting his sleep, could not be misinterpreted: either Draco would kill the headmaster and find a way to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, or the lives of both of his parents were forfeited. No matter what.

And with all this at hand, Draco was facing another detention. Yet he forced a smile on his face. “Thank you, Professor. I’m grateful that you’re taking time to ensure that my education is not wasted.”

Flitwick’s gaze finally softened and his voice was once more filled with concern. “You are an intelligent student, Mr. Malfoy. Concentrate on your studies, and you will be prepared for what lies ahead. Now, for the rest of the lesson, join a practice group when you are ready to proceed.”

Draco nodded again, masking his misery. Afraid of being watched by Flitwick or his own fellow students, he resisted the impulse to hug the letter to his chest and simply tucked it back into his cloak, taking his time. He wasn’t too keen on joining the others, so he made sure that his place was neat and clean not once, but three times. 

When he started checking for the fourth time, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Pansy. 

“Come on, Draco. I’ll show you what you’ve missed so far.”

She didn’t ask, and Draco was relieved that he simply had to mimic her movements with his wand. But he knew that she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. Too many hours of detention, an inquiry from Pansy about the pressure he was under and why he wouldn’t confide in her, and his professor preaching about the importance of studying and gaining House points. As if Draco’s real task didn’t matter. 

And if it didn’t? If everything the Dark Lord had threatened would happen, no matter what? If maybe that had been the truth, hiding its ugly, red-eyed face from him all along? Draco felt every hair on his arms and back stand up, as a shiver crept over his body. 

Pansy threw him a critical look. “Are you cold, Draco? You don’t look too well, your lips are all blue. You have been a bit under the weather, lately. Maybe you should go and see Madam Pomfrey after class.”

Draco nodded, grateful for her kind interpretation of the facts. “Yes, I might do that. A bit of Pepperup Potion is probably just what I need.” 

But he knew that he could swap the potion for his pumpkin juice at mealtimes until his ears were transmitting a constant steam, and still wouldn’t be able to chase away that feeling of coldness that had settled into his bones. A coldness similar to the ice on a Dementor’s breath, feeding on his father’s mind in Azkaban.

**Author's Note:**

> The third story of the Rainbow Series. Beta-read by waterbird. My thanks and gratitude to her for being my travelling companion on this road; any remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
